


Objectionable Behavior

by dirtyblonde



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Beckabeth, Deception, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Frottage, Humiliation, Infidelity, Manipulation, Masturbation, Mind Games, Office Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyblonde/pseuds/dirtyblonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Elizabeth's engagement to Will, she goes to work for Cutler Beckett at his law firm. Before long, it becomes clear that their shared past is not as innocuous as it seems and Will worries about the future of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunion

Sitting in the back of the taxi cab I felt anxious.

My fingers were knotting and winding unconsciously until Will finally stilled me with the weight of a warm hand in my lap. I sent him a brief smile grasping him loosely, countenance darkening again once my eyes were trained back out the window.

“I know you’re nervous, but I really think your father knows what he’s doing trying to set you up with this job,” he said reassuringly. Because how could he know it wasn’t the job I was apprehensive about.

I flushed and nodded mechanically. “I’m sure you’re right,” I replied. What else was I supposed to say? There were some things about my past Will didn’t know, didn’t need to know. We’d been together for 5 years and were about to get married. There weren’t many secrets left between us. And this wasn’t so much a secret as something I had simply chosen not to tell him about.

Will knew that Cutler Beckett and I were acquaintances through our parents. That was the extent of our connection as far as he was concerned. I burned inwardly to reflect on the truth. How hard our parents had lobbied for the marriage; how much, against every fibre of my being, I had desired it too. I was a different person now, but recollections of what might have been came unbidden.

Usually I avoided my father’s evening parties, but tonight he had persuaded me to come in order to make a good impression on Cutler. Beckett would definitely give me a job, my father said; had always expressed an interest in employing me after I passed the bar. Clerking hadn’t really been for me at the time, but after no luck expanding my graphic design business I had no choice but to put my masters degree to good use after years of stagnation.

“Ready?” Will looked at me. I realized with a thinly veiled panic that we had arrived, stopped just short of the valet queue. He paid the fare and we stepped onto crushed gravel, the house I grew up in looming large before us. Being back here did not fill me with happy memories, but rather emptied me out inside. Light and music and people were everywhere.

“Let’s go,” I said finally, taking Will’s offered arm and allowing him to lead me inside.

After the requisite libations had been procured from one of the many complimentary bars, we moved to find my father. The longer we waited to do so, the worse I knew it would be. I spotted him easily and we manoeuvered around the dance floor towards him.

“Lizzie!” He greeted with a broad grin, embrace crushing.

“Colonel,” Will said, extending a hand which my father shook firmly.

My throat burned as I saw who stood at my father’s side, his eyes never leaving me as I numbly heard him introduced to Will. All the while I struggled to keep the smile upon my face looking natural, even when he drew near and pressed his lips to my cheek by way of greeting. They lingered moments longer than was strictly necessary.

“Have you missed me?” Cutler asked as soon as it became clear that my father had cornered Will, engaging him in a discussion about the allotment of government funds for military programs. When had he moved to my side? My throat crackled with dryness, heart racing as I railed against the snare. His nearness affected me just how I had hoped it wouldn’t. My desire was visceral and I exercised the utmost restraint to conceal it.

“You know I’m engaged,” I responded in an equally hushed tone, flashing my engagement ring at him discreetly. His mouth curled slowly up into a predatory smirk at my response. He stepped in even closer to completely assure we not be overheard despite the fact that the possibility was almost nonexistent given the volume of the music in the hall.

“Not what I asked,” he said evenly, but beneath that composure coiled something dark. He looked directly into my eyes as I struggled to keep my breathing calm and unaffected.

“Well I didn’t think your question warranted a serious response. It’s been what, 5 years Mr. Beckett?”

At that his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Surely we’ve known each other long enough that you might address me more informally,” he answered. By now I could feel a building rage rolling off of him in waves and I felt a flush creeping up my neck. How could he not read the thoughts that every instant betrayed me?

“Hardly Mr. Beckett,” I countered dangerously, voice low as I spoke directly into his ear. “Just because my father attempted to sell me off to you like some prize hog is hardly a glowing proof of our intimacy.”

Beckett’s anger kept him from responding immediately. “Your tact at this juncture is less than prudent Elizabeth,” here he paused, watching the effect on me of his dangerous tone caressing my name possessively. His hand found the soft skin of my delicate inner wrist, thumb gently but insistently massaging. A blush coloured my cheeks. My eyes widened in horror. “This is a game you will lose,” he addressed me seriously.

Disgusted more by him or myself I could scarcely say, but at once I needed to bury my shame. “Excuse me,” I spoke at full volume in order to politely depart the entire circle. Will’s face cocked in confusion – I reassured him with a tight smile and he returned to my father. Cutler on the other hand burned a hole in my back until I cleared the ballroom. My feet didn’t stop until I was locked safe within the room that had once been mine and I didn’t rejoin the party until I had quenched the fire that had been stoked to a roaring blaze within me.

*****

The job came through, I need never have worried.

After my exchange with Beckett at the party a cold fear had gripped me; I felt certain he would refuse me the position pushing Will and I into financial desperation. But just as quickly this was replaced with an even greater certainty, one that terrified me all the more: he would not refuse me the position.

As my first day approached Will was excited, glad that I had “aced the interview." His words. The encouragement smothered me. Because the truth was there had been no interview. I hadn’t gone. I’d gotten ready and sat in the carpark of Beckett’s Firm for 3 hours, because that’s how long it had taken until I felt I could go home and make a good show of having actually gone to the interview to Will.

I knew it wouldn’t matter. The next day I received a curt but polite message from Cutler’s assistant detailing the job requirements, salary and expected start date. “Please feel free to contact Mr. Beckett directly with any further inquiries,” the message concluded. A private extension followed: 001.

The first few days I was a wreck, wondering always what new way Beckett would inevitably come up with to torment me. But there was no trick. I threw myself into the work, taking to it with greater ease than I had anticipated. A nice woman named Nancy oversaw the pool of clerks to which I had been assigned and attached each of us to particular cases.

It was on Friday. He asked for me, Nancy had said. Wanted me to bring up some documents and ask after my first week. Her expression suggested that the concern he showed for me was charming, indicative of the thoughtfulness of a good heart. But I knew better.

Standing before his door I couldn’t move. My hand was raised to knock and I grasped the briefs in my arms tightly. What was waiting for me beyond that door would be bad. I finally rapped firmly and was beckoned to "Come in" from the interior.

Opening the massive oak door I slid inside quietly. When Cutler looked up from his desk and registered that it was me, his eyes darkened. “Elizabeth,” he said, elongating every syllable. Everyone else called me Lizzie or Liz, but Beckett never shortened my name when he spoke it; and from his lips it always spilled like a thick tumble of honey.

“I – uh, brought the briefings you requested,” I replied, nervous at first, but regaining my air of aloof composure even as his eyes fixated so completely upon me. I took in the room with a skittish aspect, eyes darting from imposing desk, to uncomfortably ornate leather sofas, to massive glass wall – a floor to ceiling two-way affair that overlooked reception.

Beckett took the folders from me and laid them neatly upon his desk without saying anything. I moved over to the glass in a vain attempt to get further away from him. When I looked back over my shoulder he had gotten up from his desk and was now leaning against it watching me, arms folded pensively. My throat tightened, dry as I watched him begin to approach in the reflection.

“How are you liking the firm?” he asked, now right at my shoulder so that we were both looking down into the reception area. It also meant that we both saw Will step out of the elevator with a bouquet of roses, inquire at the desk and be directed to take a seat. I blushed profusely and examined the floor.

“Mm, it’s fine. I’m enjoying it actually.” A reply unexpectedly candid, but my voice a mumble under the smirk I knew Cutler was regarding Will with.

“A little simpering I think,” he remarked casually. “And you always hated roses,” he continued, tutting with disappointment. I couldn’t think of any reply. My heart was racing with anticipation of I knew not what. Then I felt his hand. A vice upon my hip as his other palmed my jaw to wrench my attention back onto him. I squirmed, but he had me penned in by the glass.

I met his eyes with what I hoped was defiance, but the heat coursing through my body was hard to mask. My chest heaved with exertion and his gaze flickered down to my blouse.

“Time for a little honesty now,” Cutler began, his thumb bruising my hipbone painfully. I was rapt with attention. He moved against me, encroaching upon my space until I smelled the heady musk of his aftershave. His lips were at my ear when he spoke. “When you excused yourself at the party, where did you go?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

I struggled in earnest now, trying to twist out of his grip, but my efforts amounted to nothing. He shifted us both until my chest was pressed against the glass and he was positioned behind me. His hands were spread flat across my hips. He pushed against me, using his weight to keep me trapped.

When I felt his hardness against the seam of my skirt, I let out a tiny whimper of desire.

“Tell me,” he commanded menacingly.

“I went to my old room,” I replied meekly. “You know the one,” I added, a taunt to encourage him, to let him know I was playing the game as a willing participant. I could still stop him if I wanted to.

Now his hands were at the hem of my skirt hiking it viciously upwards. His fingertips felt like heaven as he moved them over my nude coloured pantyhose, flattening his palms upon my ass before travelling lightly across my abdomen. One hand he stayed at my hip, but the other dipped underneath the weave of the hose. When it froze just at the top of my silk panties I whined pitifully.

“If you don’t tell me, I won’t touch,” he said firmly, rocking me back against his pelvis, the form of his rigid cock straining in his trousers. He knew what I wanted, that I needed him. Will’s presence in the lobby below would plague my guilt later, but in the moment it only spurred my desire.

“I went up to my room,” I said again, but this time I kept going. “I had to go somewhere private to bring myself off because of how worked up you got me,” I finished in a rush. He palmed my mound roughly at the admission and I moaned wantonly.

“My wet girl,” he said with a grunt, pushing the moist fabric of my panties up against me, brushing my clit with slow protracted passes. I pressed back against him as best I could, urging him to move faster with my movements. But I well knew that Cutler was not one to be hurried. Every action was precise and drawn out. “Bend over,” he ordered.

I hastily obeyed, bracing myself against the glass with both hands, neck craned around to watch him. He ripped my hose down and shoved a hand into the back of my panties. He touched the pucker of my asshole lightly as he slid closer to my weeping slit.

“Did you finger yourself?” he asked, index hovering at my entrance.

“Yes,” I replied. His eyes flickered, dissatisfied with my lack of elaboration. “I was wet and aching for you. Part of me wanted you to follow me upstairs, barge in on me. Punish me and fuck me raw,” I detailed, gasping with need as he slid two fingers inside me, tight and painful at first, but sending shivers of pleasure as he worked me open.

“Tight little cunt,” he commented, adding a third finger and crooking into me just right. He worked steadily in and out. “Will must not be fucking you correctly if you respond to my touch with such need.” I moaned at his assertion.

I felt myself getting close, pressure building rapidly. “I –“ I began before my words dissolved into pathetic moans.

“Tell me what you were going to say.”

He quickened his pace. “Uuunnngh, I was going to say,” I paused. It was getting difficult to articulate, my thighs tried to clamp down upon Beckett’s wrist as I trembled. “I couldn’t cum until I imagined you giving me permission,” I admitted guiltily, face red with shame. My eyes found Will in the reception area. The fact that I could see him as Cutler defiled me heightened the betrayal. “Please,” I finally begged.

Cutler pumped me up and down, releasing me at last with his consent.

The climax ripped through my entire body. I screamed with satisfaction as my orgasm pulsed out of me, overflowing my panties and spraying ejaculate against the glass while he unrelentingly circled my clit. My legs dissolved beneath me and I fell forward into the thick pane with a dull thud.

But I barely had a moment’s respite. Beckett spun me roughly, slamming my back against the glass. His mouth found mine for a desperate kiss. We were both desperate, mouths hot and wet. His tongue wrestling with mine as his hands probed everywhere, cupping my breasts roughly as he bit into the flesh of one shoulder.

It was only a moment before I heard the metallic fastening of his belt falling free and the hasty zip of his trousers being undone. I felt him rigid against my thigh, his massive cock swollen and weeping a steady stream of pre-cum. I kissed him hard, bruising his bottom lip with my teeth and snaking one hand between us, giving myself away.

I wrapped my hand around him and gripped him roughly, the way he liked. He growled deep into my mouth pushing heavily against me until I guided him to my entrance, sopping with desire and anticipation. His fingers found my slit again and pushed the fabric of my panties aside. Finally his tip slid inside me, breaching halfway on the first thrust before sheathing deeply on the second. I could feel his sack slide against my asshole. A choked sound escaped me as I came again, cunt clenching desperately in an attempt to keep his cock trapped inside me.

He pulled my thighs tight around his waist as he remained buried in my heat. I knew he wouldn’t last long as he slammed into me mercilessly, rutting erratically until he stilled. He stayed deep and pumped me full of cum, both of us sweaty and heaving with exertion. He drew a breath of supreme satisfaction, putting one hand to my throat so that he could force my lusted vision to meet his.

“I missed you,” he said. His tone was earnest, but he had to know I would never believe him. Still, I had missed this, or him, or some combination of both and leaned forward to kiss him. Desperate and passionate and hungry.

When we stopped the kiss we were both standing again. I slid to my knees and took him into my mouth to clean him off, because this was the next part of the game. I tucked him back into his boxers, zipped his pants and straightened his shirt, slipping my hands below the waist to flatten any pucker. He all but purred with satisfaction when I ran my fingers through his hair to reshape it.

Stepping out of my torn hose I moved to pull up my ruined underwear. Cutler held out a hand expectantly. “Give them to me,” he demanded and I knew what he meant.

“No,” I responded firmly. “This isn’t like before. Whether you like it or not, I’m getting married.” Cutler bristled at my defiance, having to fight the urge to curb my disobedience immediately.

He moved forward, absentmindedly adjusting my bra as I held out my arms to either side before he deftly re-buttoned my blouse. He tugged it straight and pulled my skirt down after, smoothing the nap of the brown suede with broad strokes across abdomen and thigh. My eyes shuttered pleasantly. When they opened, he was regarding me with a hard expression. “You’re not allowed to say no to me,” he said tightly.

I flinched, striding over to the door I knew would be a closet. Opening it I found the full length mirror I knew would be hung on the inner plane. I smirked at his predictability, rearranging my hair into a neat bun. “You had your chance,” I said quietly, unaware that I had spoken aloud, forgetting Cutler was there in the room with me, his focus trained on my every movement.

Sufficiently rearranged I headed toward the door.

“Stay,” Cutler commanded, voice still holding sway like it used to. But instead of stilling I sent him a scathing look over one shoulder.

“Enough,” I replied, managing to keep up my false bravado until I was out the door. At least in the hallway I could allow the weight of my guilt to crash down upon me in peace.

Downstairs I smiled and allowed Will to peck me on the cheek as we left for lunch, receiving his roses with gratitude. But I still felt Beckett’s presence looming, his hands having been too lately on me and his eyes, upon me even now as he watched us from on high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how regularly this'll get updated as it's very much a side project. Been a while since I've written anything for public consumption, so feel free to comment to let me know how it is! Enjoy the Beckabeth smut : )


	2. Skeletons

Will hoped that meeting Norrie for lunch would ease his qualms, but he was quickly coming to the realization that he needed to abandon that fantasy.

“You didn’t know that they used to date?” James asked with a sheepish expression, choking wide-eyed on his BLT as he was caught out exposing something Liz had meant to keep private. He moved seamlessly to control the damage. “Well, I mean I don’t know that I would really even say that they dated.” Will’s expression clouded. “That sounded bad. That’s not what I meant,” James clarified quickly, hands raised defensively.

“What _do_ you mean then?” Will asked tersely, regarding James with taut anxiety.

“What I mean is that the Colonel and Beckett’s parents essentially tried to arrange their marriage.” Will’s eyes widened in semi-comprehension at James’ admission. “They weren’t having it – _hated_ each other from what she told me. And which _she_ should be telling _you_. Because you should be talking to her about this. Not me. The only thing I should be doing is shutting my fucking mouth,” James declared with finality. Waving away further inquiry with his arms and taking a generous swig of beer.

“That can’t be all you know,” Will said, clearly pressing for more information but not knowing what expression to arrange his features into and wavering awkwardly between conspiratorial and desperate.

James knew how badly he’d stepped in it and tried to be as reassuring as possible to compensate. “Honestly, that’s all I’ve got. And I’m sure that’s all there is to it. She probably didn’t mention anything because of her father’s involvement. You know how touchy Liz can get about the Colonel.”

Will half-heartedly assented, still unconvinced about the glaring omission in Elizabeth’s dating history. “Norrie, Elizabeth is your closest friend. There just _has_ to be more to the story.” If Liz were hiding this because she was ashamed or embarrassed, then there was no need for the discretion. She could feel no shame for actions that had by Norrington’s account been completely out of her control. But if there had been more to their relationship, the slightest attraction between them, then it struck him as all the more significant that she should conceal it from him. He worried his lip and sank into thoughtful silence.

“Look, it was right after our big, dramatic freshman breakup and we hadn’t quite reconciled ourselves to intimate friendship yet,” James explained in an effort to pull his friend out of his slump. “We didn’t really get talking again until just before she met you, actually. The way she talked about Beckett though,” James’ eyes widened meaningfully. “Let’s just say she was hardly flattering – described him as a total scoundrel, the entitled type, desperate to ‘acquire’ her because she was something he couldn’t have. Completely repellant.”

Will snorted appreciatively but still looked troubled. “It’s just, she’s been acting so weird since she started this new job. I know it’s only been a month… I guess that guy just gives me a really bad feeling. I’m just being jealous though. Paranoid.”

James almost wished he did have a more complete picture so that he could dispel his friend’s worries. But the truth was, everything surrounding what had happened between Elizabeth and Cutler Beckett was largely a mystery to him. She told him it had been bad. Their parents had been all for the match. It was right after she’d broken up with him so she had been seriously considering the marriage at first, but it soon became clear to her that they would never work. Some fatal character flaw on his part.

Now James fell into contemplative silence as well. It was no real business of his to interfere in the lives of his two closest friends, but he thought he could at least talk to Liz to let her know how much Will was suffering. As it stood now his brow was furrowed heavily and he studied his stout glassily.

“You need to talk to her, I’m sure she’ll clear everything up,” James said to comfort his friend, reaching across the table to clasp Will's shoulder supportively. “And honestly, I’m sure it’s all the work at the new job that’s making her so withdrawn – you know how she throws herself into these things.”

Will tried to force a smile back, but it slipped away just as quickly as it had appeared. One thing was certain, he needed to clear this whole mess up before he fell any deeper into obsession.

*****

Cutler was becoming a bigger problem with every passing day.

After the tryst in his office he was making it impossible to ignore that he wanted more from me. I couldn’t get him out of my head, partially because he wouldn’t allow me to, flooding my voicemail with pornographic promises that left me soaked through, but also because that afternoon with him had relit a fire within me I’d thought long extinguished.

I tried to escape by throwing myself into the work. Unfortunately there was no way to crawl out from under the paralyzing weight of my own guilt. Regret had me torn up, behaving like a moody cow at home, certain I was wearing my shame like a badge as I punished Will with avoidance even as his hurt began to show. Sometimes I’d go to the cinema by myself after work and tell him I was still at the office just so I didn’t have to go home yet. Home to a loving fiancé who was beginning to worry very much about my increasingly distant behaviour.

All of my worst fears had been confirmed this afternoon when Norrie texted me (a last resort after I avoided 3 of his phone calls) that he was worried about Will, saying Will was desperate to know my history with Beckett. Even though I was alone working late in the deserted clerks’ pool I forced myself not to cry. Instead I pounded my forehead angrily with the heels of my palms and fisted my hair ‘til my scalp burned.

My office line echoed loudly. Cutler. As soon as the line freed up I put the phone desperately against my ear so I could hear his voice.

 _“Elizabeth, you can’t keep avoiding me like this. The longer you play coy the more incensed I will become and the more creative your punishments will be…”_ The message was like a fix pumped straight into my junkie heart, charging me with desire as I fantasized about all the things he could do to me. No, even worse, the things I _wanted_ him to do to me. Bile rose in my throat as self-revulsion supplanted my arousal. I slammed the receiver loudly into the cradle, backing away in my chair.

“What’s the matter with you?” I scolded quietly, face red with emotion. Cutler was a sickness. I vowed to keep fighting my temptation and hoped I could keep my own promise. I loved Will.

Slumped down at my cubicle I tried to straighten everything out. First Will. With resolve I decided that I would go home and tell him everything. Everything in the past everything. Just not three weeks ago everything. Eventually I would tell him of course, once I’d found another job. But if Will knew about what had happened in Cutler’s office he’d force me to give notice, and of course I would want that too... Not yet though. I couldn’t yet. I had vowed never to ask my father for money and we desperately needed what I was making as a clerk here. Will would be able to forgive me later, I decided brashly.

Already my composure began to return. Deciding on a course of action to mend my fractured home life put me instantly at ease. Cutler wasn’t going to be a problem, I thought confidently. I could be strong. And although both persistent and obsessive, there was one line at least that it appeared Cutler would not cross: he was unwilling to do anything untoward in any public area of the office. He always maintained an air of professionalism that was absolutely above reproach, ignoring me most successfully when it was his design – on some occasions much to my ire.

This temptation could be overcome. His office had simply been a mistake. Nostalgia. I didn’t love Cutler anymore.

But steeling myself to rebuff Cutler also meant I’d have to interact with him. No more hiding. No more avoidance tactics. His appetite would only become insatiable if I refused to engage with him. Newly fortified, I barely even hesitated when the phone rang again.

“I thought you’d never answer,” came the menacing purr at the other end of the line. A shiver shot down my spine.

“You have to stop this Cutler,” I said without preamble as soon as Beckett’s voice died away.

“Stop what?” He asked stubbornly. I could picture him, smirking and slung low at his desk while he toyed with me. “Those jeans make your ass look fantastic, by the way,” he said conversationally. We had run into one another in the conference room earlier and I had wondered if he’d been appraising me.

“You’re disgusting.” I tried to make the words seem cutting, but they came out breathily.

“I think not,” he replied darkly. My mouth was dry with shame, heat pooling between my thighs as I keened to his voice.

“You have to stop,” I said, tone slipping dangerously into desperation.

“Are you going to beg me?” I could hear the smile in his voice as he imagined it.

No reply.

He was silent a moment before continuing. “No I don’t think I will stop Elizabeth, not until I get what I want. My thoughts of you are incessant. I want to possess you as I once did. Why even try to escape it?”

Ignoring his question, I cleared my throat self-importantly. “Well, that’s never going to happen Cutler. I’ll never be yours again. That was only ever really on the table for the briefest of moments. But 5 _years_ have passed since then.” I tried to impress upon him how long that amount of time truly was. “I’m further from you now than I ever was back then, even in some of my darkest hours.”

“And yet in my office, it was as if no time had passed at all. Nothing has changed.” The way he spoke was not cutting. His tone was observational, melancholy. A silence passed. “What did you tell him about us?”

I didn’t dare speak the truth aloud, he’d have just as much exposition from my silence. Knowing that I had told Will nothing would give him great satisfaction and I flushed with embarrassment imagining Cutler savouring his superiority over my fiancé. He laughed cruelly.

“Come up to my office. I want to kiss you.” His voice was needling, the perfect mixture of command and plea. I stifled a whimper fully aware of where he intended to put his lips.

“No,” I exhaled, closing my eyes as if that could protect me.

“Tell me what you’re wearing,” he whispered.

“You know what I’m wearing.”

“I want to know what you’re wearing _underneath_ what you’re wearing.”

I gasped, hand involuntarily creeping between my thighs. “I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Just hang up the phone then.”

We were both on the line, breathless, picturing what the other was doing. I heard him unzip his fly and my mouth watered. We were rapidly veering into dangerous territory. In another minute I mastered myself, eyes going wide as I flew forward with a gasp.

Mashing the receiver into the base for the second time tonight I recoiled, head falling against my backrest as I slowed my breathing. Without another moment’s thought I was in my coat, finally getting my lamp off after four tries, not even bothering to shut down my computer. I’d saved. Probably. It didn’t matter.

I was halfway to the elevators by the time I’d managed to pull out my cellphone and dial home with trembling fingers. It seemed that Will would never pick up and the fear of that chilled like ice cold water through my veins.

“Hey babe!” I finally let out with the relief of I knew not what. “Just leaving the office now actually, but I wanted to talk about something when I get home… Yeah, no I know. He did tell me yeah… Well James mentioned he told you about me and Cutler?.. No, no. It’s really nothing …Oh I just knew you had been worried, but don’t worry. There’s really nothing to worry about– Anyway I’ll explain everything when I get home…”

Finally at the safety of the elevator bank I told Will I’d be home in 20 minutes, that I loved him before putting my phone into my coat. The automatic lights on the 21st floor went black as I met my elevator with undue enthusiasm. But in the empty office, the ding of the door did nothing to mask the hollow tone of a lone telephone ringing in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally had some time to finish up chapter two, which is a little more plot than porn so I hope y'all still enjoy. Thanks for the love on chapter one, it really means a lot <3


	3. Freshman

It wasn’t a lie what I told Will when I got home that night. Cutler and I _had_ been on friendly terms during my freshman year. But what I didn’t tell him was that the story didn’t end with me refusing Cutler’s proposal and declaring I would never go through with our parents’ scheme.

Things had fallen apart with Norrie in spectacular fashion almost as soon as we went off to different colleges. When we were both completing our undergraduate programs at the same school, things had been simple, but now that we were pursuing graduate programs at schools that were a world away, things quickly started to crumble. I had begun to resent his insecure neediness while he accused me of being unwilling to put in the work. By the end I became a cruel, hateful creature and he finally admitted defeat by breaking up with me over voicemail one afternoon.

I spiralled into an abysmal depression. My only coping mechanism was school, which I threw myself into with a vengeance, spending every waking moment poring over volumes in the law library.

An insensitively short time later, my parents came for a visit to talk to me about “a wonderful young man” they wanted to introduce me to. I sensed the fix up at once, but was too fragile to refuse the introduction flat out.

And so it came to be that Cutler Beckett and I first laid eyes on each other one dreadful evening in October under the watchful supervision of our meddlesome parents. Although only half a dozen years older than me, Cutler already interned at a prestigious law firm while working as a teaching assistant to supplement his income. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, but he had a quiet, confident air that was magnetic and had made my chest flutter with nervous energy not only upon that first meeting, but at every subsequent meeting as well.

There was something that glinted dark behind his eyes. I was immediately charmed by him – loathe as I was to admit it – and we passed our first evening together in relative cordiality.

After a brief courtship that brought us nearly to Christmas, he asked the question I had known he would since the first day we met. Though he assured me that the impulse to propose stemmed from a sincere depth of emotion, natural skepticism made me wary to commit myself. Even after so short an intimacy, I sensed in him a possessive nature. A desire for dominance that ran my nerves ragged with anxiety as I struggled to divine my own true feelings.

Objectively, Cutler was a man with plenty of flaws: chief among them his unwavering pride, and a conviction of his inherent superiority to nearly everyone he encountered. I was a girl of good breeding. Polite. Humble. We were a disparate match in almost every possible way. Even our interests in law ran at odds.

Our relationship remained unconsummated, but it was not for a lack of attraction between us. On the contrary, our attraction had a physical palpability to it that ultimately made it impossible for me to determine whether our apparent compatibility arose as a consequence of lust or love. Because of my uncertainty, I concluded that our unlikely relationship was undoubtedly a product of hormonal sorcery and not the result of genuine feeling. Incapable of saying yes, I forced myself to refuse Cutler’s proposal.

Cutler was not pleased at my refusal. His face remained impassive as I conveyed my feelings to him, but I could sense the inner machinations of his brain at work as he suppressed the rage that boiled hot within him.

Convinced that I had made the right decision, Cutler and I parted ways.

My parents had been furious with me, berating me for weeks after I told them what had transpired. They felt ashamed of me, sure that my obstinacy would consign me to the life of a spinster. They maintained an archaic worldview, but my mind was made up. For better or worse I was willing to live with the consequences of my actions.

And that, as far as Will knew, was the extent of my relationship with Cutler Beckett. A version of events that euphemized all the attraction and fabricated all of the hate was related to Will immediately upon my arriving home from work that spring evening.

As Will fell into the most fitful sleep he’d had in almost three weeks, I chewed my lip in the dark, unable to stop myself from revisiting the past.

*****

After what had been my worst holiday season to date, I returned to college for winter term eager to curb my despondency through a course of rigorous study. Cutler had often been on my mind since the dissolution of our acquaintance, so it seemed to me that I must have willed him into being when I saw him sitting at the very back of my advanced criminal law lecture during the first week of term.

A deep blush overcame me as I managed to tear my eyes from his and sidle awkwardly into a second row seat. It couldn’t be. Cutler taught at a different college. I was positive. I could hardly believe it when I saw his name printed on the syllabus, undeniable in black and white: _TA: Cutler Beckett_. My ears rang in shellshocked disbelief; what a trap fate had set for me.

The lecture melted away, so much so that I didn’t notice its termination until almost half the hall had cleared out. While packing away my untouched notebook a familiar shadow fell upon me.

“You look very fine today Miss Swann,” Beckett complimented with unaffected ease. As he continued to evaluate my appearance I had time to seriously regret my choice to wear a fitted grey sweater-dress. I was immediately embarrassed as I remembered unbidden the last time we had spoken to one another and was desirous to end this interaction.

“Ah– th-thank you,” I replied, struggling to raise my gaze to his face. The silence lengthened. “I didn’t expect you,” I managed stupidly.

“No, rather not. I just accepted the position last week,” Cutler explained coolly. “It hardly seemed appropriate – especially given the feelings you shared with me in December – to reach out to you. I figured I would just let the course of events surrounding our inevitable meeting unfold naturally. And so here we are.”

“Here we are,” I mumbled, rising with book bag in hand. The movement sent a rush of blood to my head and the dizziness it caused forced me to brace myself against the nearby desk.

“Elizabeth,” he said, voice filled with genuine concern. The demeanour he’d possessed a moment before, one designed specifically for cruelty, disappeared instantly at sign of my distress. “You’re shaking,” he said, tone hushed as he moved closer, hand coming up to my waist for support.

“I’m fine. Just skipped breakfast,” I rationalized with a weak smile. When I looked into his eyes they were kind, filled with concern. I wanted him to kiss me. I’d made a terrible mistake.

“Let me make you some tea. I’ll get us something to eat in my office.”

“Please, no. Honestly.”

“I’m not really asking.”

When we were in the privacy of his office he sat behind his desk watching me, arms folded. I ate the sandwich he brought and felt immediately better even as my mind tried to reassess what was happening. There was a thickness in the air. Expectation. Cutler refused to join me on his small sofa, but the way he said it was as if he wouldn’t allow himself to. As if he were afraid of what he would do. My heart was hammering within my chest.

After a long silence I finally spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened,” I said plainly.

“As am I,” Cutler replied. “I’m sorry you felt my investment to be lacking, but I can tell you most assuredly that I am very much in love with you.”

I scoffed in disbelief setting my saucer down on his coffee table with a loud jarring of china. “How could you be, really? We barely know each other. Cutler, be serious.”

His jaw tightened at my words, at my reaction to his earnest expression of feeling. At my reticence to credit his assertions.

“Don’t be callous.”

“That was never my inten–“

“Perhaps it’s best if we forget the past,” he cut across firmly.

“Perhaps…”

“Perhaps we’re in need of a new arrangement.”

Confusion crept onto my features even as anticipation began to build within me. But before I could inquire after his meaning, I felt the weight of Cutler setting down next to me on the couch. He wasn’t very close, but he was certainly close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. When I raised my gaze he was angled towards me, watching my face intently.

Silence broke between us and I heaved with expectation. My pulse quickened under his scrutiny. The kindness had melted from his every aspect, his face now a collection of hard lines. It was his eyes that betrayed him, expressing desire as clearly as my own.

“How should we begin Elizabeth?” Cutler prompted. I felt rather than saw him lean towards me as I stared down at my own tightly clenched thighs.

“I–“ the word was mumbled, but it came out breathless and caught thickly in my throat as I quailed.

“Look at me,” Cutler commanded. I immediately locked eyes with him, unintentionally expressing how eager I was to take his direction, blushing with how much pleasure it gave me to do so. “What if I slid my hand between your thighs?”

The question shot straight to my cunt and I bit back a moan. His gaze never faltered as I felt his touch first at my knee, then moving up my inner thigh with steady promise. My legs refused to stay closed, resisting him for mere moments before opening easily to allow him access. I dug white knuckled into the cushion beneath me as I dissolved into the warmth he was creating.

“Are you wet for me Elizabeth?” Cutler’s voice drifted to me as if at a great distance, his hand stopped just short of the answer while he kneaded my thigh.

I couldn’t respond. My mouth opened uselessly failing to communicate with the predator who had captured me. "Yes" I tried to say, but no sound escaped.

“What was that?” He taunted.

“Yes,” I whispered, this time nodding emphatically to express my affirmation. My thoughts were torn between desperately wanting him to touch me and shame that he might actually do so, leading him to discover just how much I really wanted him.

“What was that?” He asked again, this time pressing his hand up against me to discover the fabric had soaked through as I salivated hungrily for him.

“Oh god yes,” I moaned, hips canting into his careful strokes, nearly on the brink already.

“Stand up,” he said, retracting his hand in one smooth motion, struggling to appear unaffected even as beads of sweat broke across his brow. “Come.” I rose and moved in front of him, to where he had been gesturing lazily for me to stand. Reaching forward he trailed up my outer thighs, moving under the hem of my dress until he grazed my hips. My nipples stiffened under his light movements and I barely registered it as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slid them to the floor.

“Come here,” his voice soft this time as I climbed desperately into his lap. He groaned at my weight on him, as I pressed myself upon the hardness trapped inside his trousers. Unable to stop myself I shifted against him, the friction of my exposed slit on rough wool threatening to immediately overstimulate me. I gasped with pleasure as I felt a hand slip under my skirt, moving to my ass to palm one cheek, nails digging into its meat.

Then we were kissing.

There had only ever been the chaste meeting of our lips as though observed in a public place before now, but this was something completely different. Every movement of our mouths was graceless. Insistent. The result of the repressed natural response our bodies had to one another. The transfer of heat between us had me quickening my pace as I rode his lap.

Now I felt both hands at my ass, pulling me flush as I rutted. In a vague way I became aware that I must be ruining his slacks, but in an infinitely more immediate way I tensed with orgasm, movements stuttering violently as I came. I released a truly guttural cry as my body was wracked with spasms, eventually collapsing to bury my face in the masculine scent of Cutler’s throat, grip still clenched bruisingly upon his upper arms.

Hot breath beat upon my clavicle as I dimly realized that I was the only partner who had reached climax. My hands moved to unzip him, eager for his satisfaction to be met as wholly as mine own had been, but Cutler stilled me.

“Another time,” he said, exhibiting a calculated restraint.

“But…” I trailed away, the utterance needing no conclusion.

“I have a better idea,” Cutler replied, lust-black eyes boring a hole straight through me. “If I tell you to do something, will you do it?” he asked, expression intent.

“What do you want me to do?” A tiny ember of curiosity glowed within.

He tutted my question away. “It’s yes or no. Once you agree, then I’ll tell you.”

It did not escape my notice that he said “Once you agree,” as if he could perceive my very mind. Because although I was afraid of what he would ask of me, I was not so fearful that I thought seriously of refusing him. When I responded yes, he told me what he wanted. Part of me recoiled in disgust, protesting aloud that what he desired was abhorrent. But another part of me, a darker part that hid away from even my own discovery, awoke with excitement at the humiliation Cutler was proposing.

He silenced my demurrals with a scathing look.

Moving back onto the couch I settled perpendicular to where he still sat, knees tucked beneath me. My heart was racing thinking about what I knew would come next. Leaning forward with a groan, Cutler retrieved my discarded underwear from the floor. When he pulled out his cock it stood painfully erect, purple and shining with pre-cum.

Without even realizing it, my hand slipped between my thighs to tease idly at my clit. Cutler seemed pleased by this development, never taking his eyes from me even as he pressed my panties against him. I held my breath, transfixed as he took himself in hand and brought himself off in a few quick strokes, flushing deeply as I watched thick ropes of cum coat the gusset.

Keeping the garment spread, Cutler held it before him, inviting me to stand between his knees again to reclaim it. In a flurry of hot shame I allowed him to reverse his previous actions, sliding the cotton back up until it was nestled snugly against me.

Tucking himself away as he stood, Cutler proceeded to carefully smooth my dress before moving back behind his desk as if nothing of much interest had happened. When I left his office he said nothing save for asking me to shut the door on my way out, completely immersed by the detailed corrections he was making to the paper he was grading.

Slinking unnoticed down the corridor I revelled in my secret humiliation, aware that this was likely to be the first of many heated encounters between us.

***** 

Wired and aching I lay still in bed listening to the comforting sleep noises of Will beside me. My mind was in an uproar as I thought about the dangerous precedent that initial episode with Cutler had set all those years ago. Maybe there was a part of me that still needed him.

Apparently I was becoming remarkably good at lying to myself and compartmentalizing all of my self-destructive behaviours. I mentally berated myself for sharing a bed with one man as I fantasized about another, my thoughts already making a mockery of the promises I had made scant hours ago.

As I tossed and turned unable to settle, I privately thought that my guilty conscience was getting its just deserts. I would have no scrap of moral high ground left to stand on if I couldn’t stay away from Cutler. If my heart remained fractious, the home of two men in competition for the prize, and I remained unable to choose between them, then I needed to make a decision about which man I couldn’t live without; because the indecision was to the detriment of both. And, selfishly, I worried the struggle was liable to rip me to pieces.

It was terrible enough to come to terms with the fact that there _was_ a choice to be made despite my long fidelity to Will. Finally allowing myself to accept that revelation, silent tears stained my face and eventually granted me a dreamless sleep.

 


	4. Solstice

The rest of the spring was a hectic period for the firm, but with Cutler litigating a big case and me clerking for another partner, I found myself unexpectedly blessed with halcyon days. Any of my immediate personal quandaries became mercifully sidelined by the necessity of very real work that needed to be completed with expedience. Cutler looked so worn I felt genuinely empathetic when I did happen to see him prepping in the conference room or spied the light of his office still on late into the evening. He never stopped watching me with the hunger of a starving predator, but at least for the time being I had fallen temporarily out of his reach.

About once a month Norrie and I would meet for a longstanding date to catch up with each other one-on-one, and even on that occasion I somehow managed to show up so thoroughly exhausted from work that he barely got around to asking me about Cutler. I could tell he wanted to, felt him testing the fabric of my resolve with leading questions, but I rebuffed or played dumb against every entreaty. In this secret I could continue only as an island. Telling Norrie what I had done would make the betrayal too real in a way I needed to avoid for the time being. Instead I played to his vanity and peppered him with questions about his new boyfriend, the answers to which he was all too happy to provide in the most vivid detail.

It seemed for the time being that the levee needn’t break, but I should never have allowed myself to be lulled into such a false sense of security. I should have known that there was something else coming.

The date was fast approaching of the firm’s annual summer solstice barbecue, and it was a few days before the event that I found myself alone again with Cutler in his office for the first time since the only other occasion we had ever been together in it. He looked put upon and a little gaunt, legs widely crossed as he lounged on his couch looking over some research notes he had requested from me.

“Impeccable work as usual Elizabeth. And, truly, I would expect nothing less,” he said at length, loosely tossing down the dossier I had prepared beside him as he levelled his gaze at the place where I stood apparently at ease, although my hands betrayed me by wringing nervously behind my back.

“Thank you Cutler. Mr. Beckett,” I found myself replying with undue tenderness and cleared my throat loudly to break the moment. When he continued to regard me openly without speaking I started to feel cornered. “Is there anything else…? That you need?” I asked quietly, heart racing in my chest.

“I have a great many needs at this particular moment, but none, I think, that you would be willing to help me with. In fact I think I’d give damn near anything to have you come over and sit down in my lap so I could feel you squirming and wanton for the span of a minute, thirty seconds even.” I could hardly breathe for desire, a choking kind of heat wracked my body unbidden, flushing my face for Cutler to observe with satisfaction. In that moment I would have submitted to anything, let him do anything to me that his heart could imagine as he aired his thoughts aloud. “But I don’t want you if you still think that you don’t want me Elizabeth. That game’s grown a bit old I’m afraid.”

For a moment I frowned in confusion, speechless, struggling to regain my composure. “Well that’s all for the best then,” I managed with a forced finality.

“Certainly.” Although his wording conveyed agreement, his tone most certainly did not. The atmosphere around us remained charged, pregnant.

“I half thought you’d be making advances, asking me to accompany you to the solstice barbecue,” I said laughing nervously, attempting to diffuse the mood with a touch of levity.

“Oh no, definitely not. Besides, I’ll be otherwise engaged I’m afraid. I thought I might invite an old friend to escort me and I am confident she’ll be able to provide me ample distraction from the play-acting you and Will enjoy putting on in public.” His expression was calculated as he observed the worm on his hook. I all but shook with fury.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I challenged darkly.

“I’m sorry to say, but you don’t _get_ a vote. You opted out.”

“Parading around the woman who made me leave you is a rather imprudent strategy to win me back you filthy bastard. I hate you and your fucking games.”

Cutler basked in my venom. “That mouth of yours,” he shivered. “I hear what you’re saying, I really do. And I sympathize. But I don’t agree, because I think you _like_ games now Elizabeth. I don’t think you did before, but I rather think you do now after so much time spent cooped up with your soft-brained golden boy.” He steepled his fingers beneath a smile that was sharp, and cruel, and powerful.

I left without another word, his office and then for the day, keeping my turbulent thoughts at bay until I was alone locked inside my car in the solace of the deserted parking garage. How could a person live in a present that was so inundated by the unfinished business of the past? I felt the range of every emotion crashing down on me at once and then converted each into the concentrated, blank numbness of denial.

*****

Will was so excited about the barbecue that I knew there was no point in trying to talk him out of going, and I wasn’t a convincing enough liar to feign sick, so when Friday finally arrived I found myself lifelessly going through the motions of getting ready as my thoughts remained paralyzed by the pit full of dread in my stomach. He was so proud of how hard I’d been working and wanted me to enjoy a night out, thought the stress of the job was running me ragged. How could he know he was pressing me into an arena that was liable to heighten my stress to the breaking point rather than lighten its burden. I could only smile limply and agree that I was overworked and that it would be nice to socialize with some of my more pleasant coworkers.

The drive over was uneventful and much too short to satisfy my introspection. When we walked out onto the lavishly decorated roof of the firm it became immediately clear that the affair was less traditional barbecue and more early evening cocktail party, something I was going to take full advantage of as I steered Will purposefully towards the bar nearest us. My senses felt heightened, eyes darting around trying to get a lock on where Cutler was hiding, but he was nowhere to be found. Mingling with our drinks I said hello to a few of the clerks I was familiar with and introduced Will to Hector Barbossa, the partner I had lately been working under.

“She’s a real asset. One of the best researchers we’ve ever had I think,” he was telling Will as I stood woodenly by, taking in Hector’s compliments demurely while nervously sipping from my gin. “She could be handling her own cases in a year or two I think, if you had any interest in some night school courses? Taking the bar?” These last comments he directed my way, but before I could answer I heard the words stolen straight from my tongue.

“Passed the bar already Hector,” Cutler interjected coolly. “Quite a high score too, if I’m not mistaken. Right Elizabeth?” He regarded me directly and I was forced to meet his gaze.

“Well, I was certainly satisfied with it,” I replied glibly in an attempt to maintain some semblance of modesty, dodging the brag Cutler was trying to illicit from me and feeling generally uncomfortable with the level of praise I was receiving across the board. “Looks like my drink needs refreshing, does anyone else need anything while I’m going?” All gave polite demurrals as I made my escape to the bar, vaguely aware that there was a fairly good chance I was still being discussed and touted in a manner that made me bristle obstinately.

When I had recomposed myself and was ready to make my return I noted with displeasure that Cutler was still speaking with Will and Mr. Barbossa. I noted with even greater displeasure that I saw the figure of a woman currently engaging Will in playful conversation, a woman I had hoped I would never have to see again.

“Ah, there she is,” said Will jovially as he caught sight of me, arm extended excitedly to hurry me forward so he might introduce me to his new acquaintance. Will’s gentle goodness, his open manner, his feckless devotion made me burn with shame. My gin turned to bile in my throat. I swore I could see Cutler smirking in my periphery as I rejoined the circle. As I approached Will opened his mouth to introduce us. “This is–“

“Elizabeth,” Tia said, the timbre of her voice still the catlike purr I remembered.

“Tia,” I replied as she leaned to embrace me, kissing me on both cheeks as was her custom.

“Oh,” said Will in surprise. “You two already know one another.” Confusion registered on his face as he looked between us.

Tia placed a reassuring hand on Will’s bicep. “Elizabeth interned for me at my firm when she was completing her degree,” she said by way of explanation. “I was thrilled when Cutler told me that not only would I get to see her today, but that she was actually working at his firm. She was always quite exceptional.”

“It’s a recent development,” I said humourlessly.

“I thought you were done with us forever Liz. At one time it rather seemed that the law life disagreed with you. You preferred to spurn us in favour of other interests. You were always so fond of your design work.”

The way that Tia kept referring to the world of law as an “us” hardly escaped my notice and the way she looked at me was challenging, her tone pointed, testing me for weaknesses.

“Well, things change Tia. You have to admit it has been a _very_ long time.”

“I suppose it has, in a way. But I don’t know if I’d say a _very_ long time.”

Will had thankfully disengaged himself from our exchange by this point in favour of resuming some unrelated discussion with Mr. Barbossa, blatantly out of his depth in what was going on between Tia and myself. Cutler beamed like a cat in the cream and in that moment I hated him for it. There he was, standing back as he watched the two greatest loves of his life go to work on each other, the great orchestrator of my every misery. It made me feel even sicker with myself, though how that was possible I hardly knew.

“So what brings you back?” I asked Tia evenly, feeling temporarily defeated and simply allowing myself to be carried along by the undertow I had been dragged into, while inside I silently confronted the picture of what we must look like conversing together: her, gorgeous as ever in a black sequined jumpsuit, next to me, diminutive as a girl in her presence, dwarfed by a floral sundress I hadn’t even taken the time to press. It was almost laughable how incongruous we were. It was almost enough to bring me to tears.

“Well, Cutler and I never fell out of touch the way you two did. He knew I was in town and said he would enjoy my company. That it might be some good, clean fun for the three of us to catch up. We should go out after the party is through. If I recall correctly you were always hiding something of a club girl under that cultivated exterior.” Tia and Cutler exchanged a conspiratorial look as they watched me pale before them, like two spiders ensnaring a delectable prey who were excited at the prospect of divvying up its best bits between them.


End file.
